It's Not Fair
by amanda2324
Summary: All of the tragedies, and all of the misery... these things make life seemingly unbarable and unfair. Multiple oneshots, featuring many characters. Requests are open. Chapter 3: Tears of the Hearthless - Limstella, is now up.
1. Tears of the Orphan

**Tears of the Orphan - Nino**

Time and fate were the essence of existence... a mystery that no one could understand. They were very much different, but intertwined tightly, like the wooden shards used to make a wooven basket. Time could do so many things; change, heal, destroy. Fate could also change, heal, and destroy. And so it was now, as the battle raged on near the ancient building. The young girl had her blue eyes set on the sight before her; the Shrine of Seals, but within it, the man they had to slay to retrieve the item they needed... her own, last living, dear brother. Father and her other brother were dead... though not her real family, she still saw them as such. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision, but she rushed forward, casting elfire magic at the sword user before she continued on into the building towards her brother. "Brother, no! Why must you make as fight you," she screamed at him, completely overwhelmed with dread, fear, and sorrow.

He gave her an answer, but not one that she could accept. He remained loyal to the cause of avenging the death of his brother, even though it was evident that it was not Eliwood and his company who did it, but someone else entirely. No matter the logic and reason against his cause, he would not budge; he forced them to fight. Nino stood back, wanting to turn and run from the scene, but she could not. She could not even look away. Her dear brother battled some of sword and lance users of Eliwood's army, all of them weakening him. The tactician called for a distance attacker to finish him off, before he could destroy one of the units. Nino did not move, frozen still with the realization... she was the only one within distance.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she quickly recited the words and made the motions necessary to cast her magic. She kept her eyes closed until just before she had to unleash her power at her dear brother. She saw his eyes; angry, embittered, sorrowful, confussion, and yet... a sense of peace. Her flames wrapped him in a passionate, hungered coil, silencing his cries of pain, and easing him into eternal slumber. Nino rushed forward as his body began to fall, and she caught him in her arms, just before he hit the floor. She stared into his face, fresh tears coating her sleek cheeks, and running down to drip from her face, and onto her clothing, and that of her brother. She gazed upon his face, realizing he was still breathing... but she knew his time was almost up. "...I'm coming... brother... wait for me..."

This caused her to choke up a sob, and burry her face into his chest, clinging to him for dear life as he took in his last breath, and his heart beat its last. The sunny days that her brothers would take her to the meadow to pick flowers, have picnics, and just enjoy life... the times her father would tuck her into bed, read her stories, and call her "princess"... the hopes of one day making her mother, her false mother, happy... all those days were gone. And so were the people she loved most. A deep feeling of sorrow, loss, and grief filled her insides, an emotion that was familiar to her by now. Her real parents, she would never meet. Her adopted father was gone. Her adopted mother turned out to be an evil woman, and she was gone, too. And her brothers... one died in battle, and the other, by her own magic, her own hands. She cried and sobbed into his chest, as a comforting hand was placed onto her shoulder. Her shoulders trembling with sorrow, she merely whispered in great despair, "It's not fair..."


	2. Tears of the Forsaken

**Tears of the Forsaken - Kishuna**

Memories were a blessed-curse. To remember, always, could be both the salvation of ones being, but also the destruction of the same. Remembering the kindness of a person inspires generousity, charity, and a willingness to assist. However, the dark memories, that of curses and abandonment, could tear one to shreds. Kishuna's finger brushed the end of the armrest, his mortal eyes peering at the motions from under his hood. Here he sat, on his throne, built by the morphs he controlled... he could not do it himself. He was weak, he was pathetic, he was worthless.

His emotions went out from him, along with his special ability of silencing the use of magic. He did not want it to be done, but it was done. He could only imagine what he would be like, were he not a magic seal. He took small pleasure in imagining himself as a powerful sage, who made no mistakes before his master. But as it were in the terrible world of reality, such a dream was a lie. Everyime he thought of it, his stomach plumeted deeper within him, and his sorrow dug further into the pits of his constructed heart. His fake heart. He couldn't have a real one. He was weak, he was pathetic, he was worthless.

He lifted his head only slightly as the battle cries and clashing of metal upon metal grew louder still, interupting his ponderings momentarily. He had failed upon numerous occasions to please his master, and it led to this. He failed to destroy these humans, and now they were here to destroy him. He wished that they had just left him be, to rot to dust, and vanish from existance. His own creator, his own master... the man he thought of like a father... disowned and rejected him. He was weak, he was pathetic, he was worthless.

As the door to his small throne room burst open, he quickly lowered his head, so that the hood of his cloak would hide the tears rolling down his face. He summoned more morphs to combat the intruders, while he attempted to gather his barings. He peered out from his hood at those who would defeat him; it caused his heart to sink when he saw the young boy with teal hair among their numbers. The boy who his master desired, for whatever reason... he had more affection for that boy, than he had for his own creation. Kishuna. Kishuna was important, was he not? How could he not be? He was the first of Lord Nergal's morphs to have emotions... why would he create such a being, just to throw them away like rag dolls? He already knew within his soul the answer to this. He was weak, he was pathetic, he was worthless.

His puppets were slain by these warriors of great strength, leaving him the last of the foes in this place. He stood up, but his head remained bowed. He was struck once by a giant axe, that of the most powerful of the group. He grimaced, but held his ground. He expected another blow from one of the other soldiers, but instead, he heard a soft harmony fill the air. The dragon boy... he played upon his little panflute, and danced around in a small performance for his lordling. Kishuna's shoulders sagged. Such a nice boy... why would his master wish to destroy his own... His thoughts came to an abrupt hault as he was hit one more with the powerful axe, the finishing blow to his frail body. He coughed once as he slumped to the ground, his insides beginning to fail him, bit by bit. He was weak, he was pathetic, he was worthless.

His hand weakly clutched at the cold floor, and his mortal eyes stared at the many pairs of boots, just standing there, as their wearers looked on in silence. He felt what they felt. Some were full of triumph, others of confussion, and still others of... of sorrow, of sadness. But surely, not for him... not this piece of trash that was called Kishuna, surely not he. But it was he they were looking at... he could feel their eyes boring down on him. After a few more seconds, all of them gave an aura of sadness. As their feelings changed, so did the placement of their boots. Some of them turned to leave, leave him as he began to turn to dust... to rot, just as his master wanted. The same master he simply wanted to please... like a small child, who wanted to make his father happy. But no matter what he did, his father always frowned upon him, scolded him, and finally, cast him out of house and home. Kishuna's expression twisted, as his hand and arm turned to dust, and sprinkled on the ground. "...d-daddy... N-**Nergal...**" he whispered with a great sorrow, his eyes shut tight. "It's... not... fair..."


	3. Tears of the Abandoned

**Tears of the Abandoned - Ephidel**

His loyalty was unwavering, his doubts going from minor inconveniences, to non-existant. He did his work, and he did it well, all for the sake of his master. He wished to please his master, the man who gave him breath, and life, though he could never decipher as to why he felt this way. No, not feel, he had no heart. But then, why, when Nergal left him alone in front of the Dragon's Gate, did he get this strange feeling in his chest? It felt as though someone had tossed a rock down his throat, forcing his insides downward, and his eyes bulged from the impact. Though he instantly realized what it must be... fear. The fear that comes when faced with danger, and possibly, doom. The fear that comes from the feeling of abandonment. In this case, he was left to be destroyed, while his master fled, alone.

Ephidel could feel the pull from the Dragon's Gate, attempting to suck him into another world. He resisted with all his might, trying to run away, but the pull was to much, and he was far to close. Beside the dragon, he was pulled into the other world, his cries for his master going unheeded. Had he made such a grave mistake, that his master would leave him to parish? Had he been imperfect, and his master merely lied to him all those times of praise? What had he done wrong? His questions and ponderings came to an abrupt halt when he found himself slammed onto a cold, stone floor, jamming his shoulder out of place. He growled in pain, but he remained strong, though dazed.

From his growl, another growl erupted from before him, as his prescence was realized. He looked over and up at the fire dragon, its yellow eyes glaring down at him with such intensity, such hatred, that Ephidel felt like it was already trying to destroy him, to kill this intruder. A fragile human look-alike, but clearly an abomination against nature. Ephidel's eyes displayed fear, but he snapped to his senses, and attempted to crawl backwards, away from the creature, pleading for his life. The dragon showed him no mercy, and unleashed a blazing fire upon the helpless morph. Ephidel cried out in pain, closing his eyes tight as he curled into a fetal position. The fire singed his clothing, and burned his body, but even the physical pain could not amount to how he felt in his heart. Tears welled in his eyes, but were quick to evaporate due to the intense heat. _Master... why? What did I do wrong? ...it's not... it's not... fair..._


	4. Tears of the Heartless

Tears of the Heartless - Limstella

The cries of battle grew closer, as did the enemy units. Limstella stood calmly in front of the ruins' gate, as she had been ordered to do. Her gold eyes showed no emotion, no fear, even as more morphs were slaughtered by the oncoming soldiers. However, within her flesh exterior, she was quaking. She labeled it as fear, but she refused to believe that what she was feeling was real. After all, she was just a creation of Nergal, in his attempts to make a race of peoples dedicated to serving him, their creator. She remembered when she first opened her eyes, to see the face of Nergal. He seemed quite pleased of her, and that of her partner, the morph called Ephidel. He praised them for being his two most successful morphs, and claimed that they were unique from all of his other morphs. They had emotions, like Kushina, but this did not prohibit them from using magic, nor did it cause them to become magic seals.

She had long wondered... what was it that made her and Ephidel so special? Why did he bother to make them as they were, powerful, unique? It puzzled her for quite awhile, up until she saw them; Nils and Ephidel, side by side, with Ninian just behind them. Ephidel, if his hair and eyes were changed to the color of Nils', he looked like an older version of the boy. And she herself resembled closely that of Ninian. Perhaps that this was a mere coincidence, or did he do this purposefully? She casually inquired her master of this at one point, but he appeared to be clueless of it. She took his word for it, believed it was a coincidence; but upon learning of who he was once, and of his children, she knew that there was no mistake. Nils, Ninian... Nergal's own heirs, and yet his tools for his ultimate goal. He was lost in himself, completely insane; he would forget about his own children, and in turn, use them for his own purpose, regardless of the consequences to them.

And so it was with Ephidel... and soon, the fate would be hers as well. As one of the lords, Lord Hector, cut down one of her grand generals, an internal clock began to work, counting down the seconds until she would be able to fight. Here she was a mere distraction for these lords. She was a tool, and nothing more; a slave of Nergal, not even a pet as he often called them, and not a child of him, as she desired to be. He was lost, insane, uncaring, and cruel - but he was her master. Her loyalty remained with him, even if he cared not for her. As she engaged in battle with her enemies, the memories of Ephidel weighed heavily on her mind. Before he passed into the dragon world, where he was inevitably destroyed, they had spent much time together; in casual conversation, in missions, and in practice. They learned together, sparred together, served together, and... and... She pushed the last train of thought far from her mind, as she felt her eyes would water, should she finish that. She could not show emotional weakness to the enemy, even as the first strike against her was made; her she was going to die, and the first gash, across her shoulder, was the first of it.

She continued fighting, a hopeless wretch with a determination that stemmed from loyalty. She fought against Lyndis, the Sacaen unmerciful in her blows against the sage. She fought Eliwood, his eyes narrowed with his own determination and passion for his cause. She fought Lord Hector; his eyes were aflame with anger and vengeance, burning with a raging passion. He was the one who delivered the last blow. She dropped her tome, just before her body went limp, and collapsed to the ground. The blue-haired man stood above her, glaring down at the abomination. Eliwood and Lyn, too, stood over her, but Eliwood showed a glint of concern as Limstella let out shaky words. "This heart is a mere construct," she took in another breath, shaky and weak. "Yes, as is this sorrow..." She closed her eyes, hoping that they would just go away, and leave her here today. Her master did it; the one she would have thought would take care of her. Why would her enemies be any different?

They left her there, calling to each other to hurry inside, leaving Limstella in a pool of her own, crimson blood, struggling to continue breathing. She opened her eyes once more, just a little, when she heard someone stop beside her. Her brows knitted together in weak puzzlement before she looked up, into the face of... the little dragon boy, Nils. He just gave her a blank stare, though his eyes betrayed him. They were layered with hurt, pain, and grief. They begged her to give him reason, to tell him why. Why... Her eyes finally welled with tears, long due from her own sorrow. This poor soul... how much more sadness would this boy feel, should he know that his own father forgot about him, and betrayed him? She was a mere construct, but this boy was Nergal's own flesh and blood! "I'm... sorry..." she whispered to the boy, closing her eyes tightly as the tears rolled down her face. "I'm so... sorry... it's just... it's not... fair..." She lived long enough to say these last words, and then just long enough to feel a small hand on her cheek, wiping away her tears. But that was the last thing she felt, before death picked her up, and carried her away.


End file.
